


ease bruisily

by fieryeyrie



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Killing Eve 3x03, LOOK i had to, Light Masochism, Masturbation, post bus scene, straight up smut, the bottom energy is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryeyrie/pseuds/fieryeyrie
Summary: After she receives Villanelle’s message, Eve isn’t thinking about her at all. Okay, maybe she is. Maybe she’s having a lot of thoughts.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	ease bruisily

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the winston surfshirt song (lol)
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Eve has chucked the plastic heart in the lowest drawer of her furthest cupboard. She’s not thinking about her. Not thinking about the snarl of that voice in her ear. Not thinking about the smell of her, dense and heady and electric and-

She needs a glass of wine. No, screw it, a goddamn mug of wine. She pours said mug and leans against the sink, staring into the dim oasis of her empty living room. The day has aged her. Wearied her. Her head hasn’t stopped throbbing. Her ribs and wrists are bruised from Villanelle’s grabbing, shoving, pressing. Absentmindedly she runs her fingers over them. Delights in the ache of them. In the shadow of Villanelle ground into her skin.

_Are my fucking nipples hard?_

She swallows the last of her wine and teases them through the thin fabric of her shirt, gently, curiously. Can’t help thinking of Villanelle’s mouth, wet and open and tender as it was against hers. If she could fit her hands back into the bruises on Eve’s hips and take those nipples into her mouth, each in turn, close her teeth around them and _tug_ as she looks up at Eve and smiles, too knowingly. 

Eve is wet and aching at the thought. She needs her here - _not_ that she’d ever admit it - craves the weight of her against her waist.

Casting the mug aside she slides a hand into her pants and slips a finger across her wet cunt, pressing hard. It’s not hard enough. She needs Villanelle pinning her into place. Shoving her against this sink, grinding a leg between hers. Teasing Eve for her helplessness and slamming each of her hands against the bench to prove the point.

Eve moves her hand faster. Bites back a moan as she thinks of Villanelle circling her clit like this, palm cupping her crotch to hold her in place, breath hot against her neck. Laughing as Eve whimpers like she does now, her legs almost faltering as she quickens her pace.

She wants it to hurt. She wants fresh bruises as Villanelle fucks her against the sink in earnest. She doesn’t care if Villanelle leaves thumb prints as she grips her neck in one hand. She wants to lose herself, disgustingly deliciously ruinously, to the feeling of Villanelle. The pain. The throbbing, all-consuming pleasure.

Eve grips the bench harder. Fucks herself faster. A staggered moan escapes her lips. 

She’s so close. Close at the thought of Villanelle shoving her right where she wants her again. At how she’d tackle her a thousand times to keep ending up ever so nearly at her mercy. Yes, she needs the heat of Villanelle’s thighs against her waist but she also needs _skin_ , she needs force, she needs her fingers pressing deeper and choking sounds out of her, she needs Villanelle heavy and heady against her _right here_.

Right as Eve’s legs buckle under her and she braces herself backward, coming so fucking hard against the sink as she presses two fingers against herself. She lets out a low moan, her chest still heaving with each aftershock. 

Eve wishes she was here.


End file.
